


up to no good in a bathroom stall

by yaheys



Category: Vampire Weekend
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, my mother would be ashamed of these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaheys/pseuds/yaheys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"one is quite proud of one's rare & beautiful shoes until one is up-to-no-good in a bathroom stall" - @arzE</p>
            </blockquote>





	up to no good in a bathroom stall

Ezra hadn't been attracted to men before he'd met Rostam. At least, he doesn't think so. He'd certainly never sucked a dick before they met, but hey, there's a first time for everything.

Of course, his analytical mind is perfectly able to appreciate giving a blowjob as yet another new experience among all the others he's had lately. After all, literally everything about this tour is a novelty. A year ago they'd been playing to small groups of undergrads in cramped rooms at Columbia. Now they were in the UK touring with a respected indie band and playing for huge groups of potential new fans every night. At the moment, their typical evening consists of sold-out shows, large parties, and then, occasionally, intimate after-parties.

Tonight, an after-party is the reason he's in a dimly lit bathroom stall in some dingy club in England. It's not the reason he ends up giving his best friend a blowjob at one in the morning, but the drugs and alcohol available at this kind of function probably have a lot to do with it. As well as the beers that several eager new fans had bought them, there had been a joint passed around at some point. Ezra knows from personal experience (mostly sophomore year of high school) that this isn't really a good combination for him. He'd taken a few hits anyway, partly because he was too drunk to remember that kind of important information until it was too late, and partly because everyone else was doing it. Rostam especially had looked like he was trying his hardest to get high as quickly as possible. It clearly worked, because he had quickly settled in to the stoned version of himself Ezra knew well. Rostam doesn't drink much, but he smokes pot more than a little; Ezra knows it helps him to relax in social situations.

At some point in the night, though, Ezra had seen him do something contradictory to the laid back, social persona of Stoned Rostam. He had glanced at Ezra once, then gotten up without saying anything and walked through the mass of people until he disappeared from view. No one made any comments about his bandmate's absence — they were probably all too drunk to notice — so after a few minutes, Ezra had excused himself and left in the same direction. Eventually, he had found a door to the men's room. Now, in the corner of the small, dimly-lit bathroom, he sees Rostam leaning against a wall, his hands rubbing at his eyes.

"Hey, you okay?" Rostam looks up, slinging his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just had to get away from that crowd."

Ezra nods. "When I imagined us touring for the first time, I never pictured so many parties. We might as well still be at college."

Rostam smiles. "Yeah. I've never known you to turn down a party invite, though."

"Well, that's more than I can say for you."

Rostam stops leaning on the wall and gets into a more vertical position. He wipes his hands on his pants before walking almost to the door, like he's about to leave. Something stops him, though, and he turns back around when he's just inches apart from Ezra.

"You're right," he shrugs, forced to look up because of their height difference. "I guess there are just more interesting things I'd rather be doing."

"Like what?"

"Like this."

Before Ezra can process what's happening, there's a hand in his hair pulling him towards Rostam until his eyes are all he can see. Automatically, he closes his eyes when he feels lips on his. When he realizes Rostam's kissing him, and that he's kissing back, all he can think is, _oh_.

He and Rostam have drunk and smoked together before, sure; he's pretty sure that's all they did when they first met. Well, that and listen to Radiohead records on repeat for hours at a time. And yeah, they've probably made out at some point, because Ezra does stupid shit when he's drunk and high (hello again, sophomore year), but since he never remembers the exact details of the time he spends high and wasted, he can't be sure. So, technically, this is his first time kissing Rostam — kissing a man. It isn't bad; a little rougher than his previous makeouts, considering Rostam hasn't shaved for a few days, but the technique isn't really any different from kissing girls.

The specific problem that Ezra has with mixing weed and alcohol is that his brain stops asking _why?_ and starts asking _why not?_. It's a potent cocktail of drunk recklessness and stoned nonchalance, and it's made him do truly crazy shit in the past. As much as he'd hate to admit it, though, he loves the sensation; it's the only time where he feels totally in control of the infinite set of possibilities of each individual moment. He feels it now as he bites Rostam's lower lip, _whynotwhynotwhynot_ surging through his bloodstream. He lets the sensation of raw power guide him as he drags Rostam into one of the stalls.

Ezra's not stupid; he knows there's only one place they can go from here. It isn't too late to back out, sure, but Rostam's a good kisser and Ezra's pretty turned on at this point. When Rostam reaches over and starts undoing his belt, he's relieved he doesn't have to be the one to make the first move. But even though he's the one with far less experience in this area, it just feels weird to let his best friend get him off when he's not even sure how badly he wants it yet. From the way Rostam's kissing him, though, fast and messy like he can't get enough of Ezra's mouth, he knows Rostam does.

"Stop," he says, as Rostam pants into his mouth. Rostam pulls back, and Ezra sees hurt and confusion in his eyes.

"What's wrong? Do you not want to do this? It's okay, I won't be mad."

"No, I- I want to suck you off." The words are out of Ezra's mouth before he even realizes what he's saying.

"Shit," Rostam whispers, looking at Ezra with curiosity and a little bit of awe. He clears his throat. "Have you ever...?" Ezra shakes his head.

"No, but you could tell me what to do."

Rostam's more than happy to do that, judging by how enthusiastically he kisses Ezra in response. He grabs Ezra's hair again and pulls him forward so that their bodies are pressed together with Rostam's back against the wall. Rostam pushes his hips up into Ezra's, and he responds automatically, groaning as their bodies grind together. Familiar heat is swooping low in his stomach, but he ignores his own arousal and instead undoes the fly of Rostam's jeans, pushing them past his hips. He falters for a moment, which Rostam takes as another cue to give Ezra an escape.

"Seriously, Ez, you can still stop anytime you-"

"No," Ezra growls with determination. His best friend's politeness is only making him more determined to prove that he can make him feel good. There's something a little annoying about it; of course Rostam is still the perfect gentleman when he's half naked against a bathroom wall. Ezra ensnares Rostam's lips with his own again, trying to hide the fact that he has no idea what the fuck he's doing right now. Tentatively, he presses his right hand to Rostam's stomach, then dips it under the waistband of his boxers. Rostam's already hard, and he inhales sharply when Ezra begins to stroke his dick. He speeds up his pace, enjoying the way Rostam's hips jerk up involuntarily when he goes back to touching him excruciatingly slowly.

Finally, Rostam breaks the kiss to look into his eyes, and beg, "Please."

"Want me to blow you?" Ezra asks, smirking as he brings his lips to Rostam's neck, sucking wetly at the flushed skin there.

"Fuck," Rostam moans, "yes."

Ezra stops touching Rostam's cock and moves his hands so that they're gripping Rostam's hips, pinning him against the wall. He drops to his knees, keeping eye contact the whole time. His pants are fucking _tight_ , and he wishes he'd undone his belt, but he doesn't want to stop right now. Even though he's on his knees, he feels a rush of control that he's unwilling to give up. Before his resolve can waver again, he drags Rostam's boxers down to his ankles. Rostam opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but he quickly shuts it again, looking down at the sight below him. Ezra moves to close his lips over the tip of Rostam's cock, his right hand gripping the base as he guides him into his mouth. He's not really sure what he's supposed to be doing, so he just tries to move his hand like before while he licks the head of Rostam's dick. Rostam's whole body shivers when Ezra swipes his tongue languidly up and down his cock.

"Uh, Ezra?" he says, voice strained. "Not to be pushy or anything, but it's good when you put it in your mouth, too."

Ezra's momentarily taken aback at the suggestion that his blowjob skills are anything less than perfect — really, Rostam can't react like that and then have the nerve to suggest an improvement — but like everything else in his life, he quickly rises to the challenge.

"No problem," he replies, flashing his friend a grin. "You said you'd teach me, right?" He takes Rostam's cock into his mouth, and yeah, the reaction this time is _definitely_ worth it. Rostam gasps, his previously listless hands finding their way to rest in Ezra's curls. When Ezra goes deeper, hollowing his cheeks, one grabs a fistful of hair.

Ezra's not sure he'd say he likes the sensation of having a dick in his mouth, but he does like everything else: hands tugging at his hair, the noises coming from Rostam, the tantalizing build-up of not touching himself even though he's incredibly turned on. Rostam's mostly given up on telling him what to do, and is just babbling, telling him not to stop, how good his mouth feels.

When Rostam chokes out, "Ez, shit, I'm close," that's all the motivation Ezra needs to double his effort. He can no longer tell himself that this is just about his own need to get off; he wants to see Rostam come, to be the one to make him lose it completely. He takes Rostam as deep as he can go, humming as he jerks him impatiently. Abruptly, Rostam's entire body tenses, and he releases a string of profanities Ezra didn't think he was capable of. He comes with a high-pitched whine, and Ezra tries to swallow what he can instead of choking, overwhelmed by the taste and the feeling. When Rostam's hands untangle themselves from his hair, Ezra spits into the toilet as fast as he can, not knowing or caring if he's being rude. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he's suddenly intensely grateful to every girl he's ever been with who's swallowed. Looking up, he sees Rostam pulling his jeans back on.

"Sorry I didn't swallow," he starts to apologize, but Rostam shakes his head, an affectionate smile curving up the corner of his mouth.

"Get up here," he says, holding out a hand, and Ezra lets him help him to his feet. Once he's standing, Rostam tugs him close and starts to press his lips along Ezra's neck.

"Are you sure that was your first time? Because that was pretty fucking great," he says against Ezra's jaw. Ezra laughs in response, and he's cut off with a kiss, Rostam's lips seeming to say more than his words have all evening. He feels hands fumbling with his belt, and then his khakis are being yanked down his legs.

"You don't have to-" he begins, but Rostam's already stroking him through his boxers, and shit, well, _if he wants to_... He stumbles backwards into the other wall of the cubicle, Rostam continuing to kiss him messily. It isn't long before his underwear is being pulled just past his ass and Rostam's getting down on his knees. He looks up at Ezra coyly through his ridiculously long lashes before taking him into his mouth. Ezra's grateful Rostam isn't mirroring his own teasing behavior from earlier; he's so worked up that waiting any longer would reduce him to a begging mess. He concentrates on breathing slowly, not wanting to come too fast and lose the heady feeling of being blown by his best friend when there's a risk that anyone could walk in on them.

It turns out that Rostam doesn't even need to tease Ezra for him to start coming undone. He's talented, stroking Ezra just fast enough to keep his hips jerking in an obscene tempo, and he does something _fucking amazing_ with his tongue. "Rostam," he moans, "fuck, slow down." Everything's building so fast, and before he even has time to warn Rostam he's coming so hard his vision blurs, white noise rushing in his ears.

Rostam swallows the last of his come, practiced, and Ezra tries not to think about the other guys Rostam must have been with to do all of this so expertly. He pulls his khakis back up and fumbles with his belt buckle as Rostam stands, brushing dirt and God knows what else off his pants.

Ezra's head is still fuzzy from the beer, the weed, and his post-orgasm high, but the thought of his shoes still pops into his head somehow. When they got their advance for the album, one of the first things he'd done was shell out a hundred dollars for a real pair of Top Siders, a luxury he hadn't been able to afford on his meager teaching wages. Looking down, he sees that his once-immaculate shoes are scuffed and dirty from his activities on the bathroom floor. He doesn't consider himself the kind of person to covet material things, but he still appreciates the beauty of a well-crafted boat shoe. Oh well; nothing to be done about it now. He sighs, and Rostam, seeming to read his mind, looks down at his feet.

"Man, don't worry about your Sperrys. I read that said soap and water cleans them up just fine."

Assured that his rare and beautiful shoes can be salvaged, Ezra smiles, completely content.

"Ros, what would I do without you?"

"Honestly," Rostam grins, "it doesn't even bear thinking about."

**Author's Note:**

> uh this is the first piece of smut I've written and I decided that after having it in my drafts for so long, if I don't post it now I never will??? For anyone wondering, this fic was set during the end of 2007, when VW toured the UK with The Shins. Also, this is probably the last Rostam/Ezra thing I will be writing (at least for a while) so thank you for reading!


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